That was what they had seen – or at least, failed to see.
In its excitement, the Hobgoblin had underestimated its foe, as those creatures often tended to. It rushed after Verdant too eagerly, and left itself too open to a follow-up attack. Verdant had taken the opportunity given to him, and even from his back, unable to put his hips into the strike, he'd run the creature through its sword-arm, lessening its blow, and continue straight through the back of it, puncturing a lung.
"It seems like he won…" Jorah said uncertainly, as Verdant stumbled clumsily to his feet, dusting the snow off his armour.
"He definitely won…" Kaya said, but he too sounded uncertain. Now they could all see the spearpoint sticking through the Hobgoblin's back from where it had fallen, but not a single one of them recalled when Verdant had made the strike.
"Oliver," Blackthorn said, calling him by his first name for the first time in a long while. "Would you call that improvement?"
